


Mirror Mazes

by Arsenics



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Awkward George, Fairgrounds, Ferris Wheels, M/M, Mutual Pining, george goes to orlando, hes easily flustered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenics/pseuds/Arsenics
Summary: George knows Dream — he’s unpredictable, unreadable, but everything he does is methodical.Or: George and Dream go to a state fair.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 129





	Mirror Mazes

**Author's Note:**

> RPF warning! You know the drill. If either of the CC’s mentioned say they’re uncomfortable with this, it’ll be taken down ASAP.

Along the road leading to Dream’s house, there are palm trees. They’re skinny, stretching up so high George has to crane his neck to see their leaves — nothing like the stubby ones he’d seen on his family trips to southwestern seaside towns, and _especially_ different from the trees near his flat. In Dream’s passenger seat, George watches the palm trees flash by as they drive, mystified by their height.

“Cool, right?” Dream’s voice rings through the silence of the car.

George blinks. “What?”

“The trees,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the middle armrest. “Bet you haven’t seen any like them. In person, at least.” 

Of course Dream knows what he’s thinking. George noticed that about him, now they’ve talked face-to-face — he can take one look at George and become in-tune with him in a split-second; he reads him, stares at him so intensely you can almost see the gears in his head turning. 

“Yeah,” George says. He ignores the quick jump in his stomach that comes after Dream looks over at him, the stupid playful smile pointed directly at George.

“You’re so dumb.”

“What did I do?” George laughs. 

“You’re so, like, I don’t know,” Dream giggles. “You’re nervous, I can tell. You’re acting like you’re my girlfriend and I’m bringing you on a date for the first time.”

George shifts in his seat. “Oh, girlfriend? Is that how you see me?”

“No, I mean, like…” Dream’s voice trails into his usual infectious laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure. Alright.” George clears his throat.

It’s quiet now, the silent hum of Dream’s car gliding along the pavement. George finds himself sneaking glances towards him every now and then, taking in the idea that _this is Dream,_ in the flesh — he’s no longer just a Snapchat screenshot in George’s camera roll, no, this is the _actual_ Dream, the one millions of people look up to and would do anything to meet. This baffles George more than it should, of course (everything about Dream baffles him more than it should), and his head begins to spin from the insanity of it all. 

He was too entranced at the airport to think about this, initially, too focused on finding Dream. And at his house, too. Too focused on petting Patches, putting away his luggage, getting ready to spend two weeks with him.

Now that they’re alone, though, in the stillness of the car, there’s nothing else to think about _besides_ Dream.

George speaks, hoping this will distract him from his own thoughts. (It doesn’t). “So, where are we going, exactly?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, George. I thought you paid attention to me.” He grins. “There’s this mini-fair going on down at the side of town. It’s got, like, rides and food and stuff.”

“Oh, right,” George says, shifting in his seat again. “Fun”

Dream shakes his head, grinning. “It’s better than staying at my house and doing nothing, okay?”

“No, no, it’s actually fun,” George replies, quirking an eyebrow. “Only if you go on the rides with me, though.”

Dream looks at him. 

“Oh, come on.” George smiles back. “Don’t tell me you’re _scared_.”

Dream lifts his eyebrows.

“No way. You _are_ scared.” George pulls out his phone and opens Twitter.

“Wait, George, _no!”_

George taps on the “new Tweet” button and furiously begins to type.

_Dream is still scared of amusement rides AHAHAHA L_

Dream reaches over to George and tries to grab his phone out of his hands but misses, grabbing his arm instead and knocking the phone out of his hand. George manages to press “send Tweet” before the phone falls and he laughs, reaching down to grab it. “ _Dream!”_

He picks it up from underneath the car seat before he realises Dream is _still_ holding on to his arm. There’s awkward eye-contact before he gets the memo and lets go, shyly returning his hand to the steering wheel. 

It’s quiet for a moment before George speaks. “You’re so dumb,” he laughs, subconsciously mimicking Dream’s words from earlier.

“I know.” 

“Focus on the road, you can hold my hand later.”

Dream shakes his head. “I wasn’t…” he trails, but he laughs before he finishes his sentence. 

-

They pull into the fairground car park and George’s eyes are immediately pulled to the flashy, neon-colored ferris wheel near the middle of the fair. He gestures to it with a nod. “You gonna go on that with me?”

“Maybe. Ferris wheels aren’t bad. Just kinda… high.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Whatever. We’ll see, we’ll see.”

George rolls his eyes as he opens the car door, careful not to hit the car parked next to them. The air smells like popcorn and cotton candy and _fun,_ sweet and inviting. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his joggers, trying his best to hide the shaking that’s suddenly overtaken him. It’s embarrassing, but George can hardly wait — he’s actually _excited._ He looks over to Dream, stares at the back of his head (his hair is a light brown, not blonde like he’d described a while back), and wonders if he feels the same way. 

“Oh, wait! Shit,” Dream blurts, doubling back to the car. He holds a hand to the side of his face, shielding what he can from the people walking by. This is when everything falls onto George again, he remembers they can’t just _go out_ , not when there are millions of people out there who recognise George’s face. There’s only one light-haired, green-eyed, six-foot white boy George talks to, and a random state fair isn’t how he imagined a face-reveal.

“Good thing you remembered,” George says, reaching for the beanie he left on the car seat. 

Dream huffs. “Imagine if I didn’t.” He pulls a red baseball cap over his hair, leaving a few tufts sticking out on his forehead. It doesn’t offer much anonymity, however, so he grabs a pair of aviator-style sunglasses from the dashboard and slides them over his eyes. “How does this look? Too sus?”

“Sus,” George chuckles, shaking his head. “No, you look fine. Like some kind of mystery man, or something. Like you’ve got places to be.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I’ll take it.” Dream turns towards him, but because of the glasses, George can’t tell _exactly_ where he’s looking. It unnerves him, sort of; it reminds him of his green Minecraft skin — so empty, filled with absolute nothingness. Dream pauses. “Wait, no, _you_ should wear these glasses. I live here, right? Doesn’t matter if they recognise me, if they see I’m with _you_ it’ll be too obvious.”

“Right,” George replies. Dream hands him the sunglasses and he puts them on, a brief moment of eye contact pushing George to look towards the ground. “Is this good?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Dream says, glancing at his phone. “You should try and speak in an American accent. It’ll help you blend in.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “No, I’m not going to speak in an _A-mer-i-cun_ accent,” he enunciates slowly.

Dream’s eyes widen before wheezing loudly. “What was that?”

“See! I can’t!” George turns his face away and covers his mouth. “Pretend I didn’t do that.”

“Okay, okay.” Dream puts his hands in his pockets and for a split second, George realises he’s mirroring his position. “Are we ready?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.”

After waiting in line for a couple minutes, they buy entry tickets and walk through the gates. George squints, trying not to be blinded by the hundreds of eye-catching lights flashing on _everything,_ rides, booths, food trucks. 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Dream asks, nodding to a red food truck labeled _Fried Dough, Funnel Cakes, Lemonade._

George hesitates. “I’m not really hungry,” he says. “Not yet. Unless you’re hungry.”

Dream laughs. “You’re not hungry unless I’m hungry?”

“No, I mean, like, you know.”

“Not really. But yeah, I can wait for a while.”

“Alright well-” 

“Wait, George, look!” Dream interrupts. George follows where he’s pointing and sees a small, kid-style rollercoaster. It’s supposed to be a dragon or something, George thinks, and he scoffs.

“What about it?”

“It’s a rollercoaster made just for you. Y’know, people of _your size_.”

“Are you saying I’m the same height as a child?”

“Yes!”

“Dream, I am _average._ Five-nine is _a-ver-age._ ”

“Short,” Dream mumbles.

“I hate you.” 

“Well, do you want to go on it or not?”

“Oh, I mean, sure-”

“Okay, then let’s go!” Dream (whether it be subconsciously or not, George can’t tell), puts his hand on George’s back and leads him to the line leading to the ride, ever-so-slightly applying pressure. George follows along but he finds himself hyperfocusing on the touch, trying his best to hide his surprise. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a _hand_ , but he can’t help but tense up against it. 

Dream lets go once they reach the line and George is sad _,_ almost, without the hand on his back. He shivers despite the suffocating humidity wrapping around him. 

The ride is exactly what George expected, slow and obviously made for children. It would be boring if Dream wasn’t here, ready to say “weee!” everytime the cart goes down a slight hill. When the ride goes around a curve, Dream slides against George due to the quick motions of the cart, forcing their arms to press together for no more than 3 seconds. It’s still enough to make George blush, though (George could drop a pen in a completely empty room and he’d still blush), but he _likes_ it. He _likes_ being close to Dream, even if it’s just for a few seconds. 

After the kids’ ride, they walk around the fair some more, George pointing to rides and Dream profusely refusing to go on them. He doesn’t mind, though, because walking next to Dream is enough, hearing his voice in perfect quality rather than through a shitty microphone is better than any amusement ride. 

While walking through an aisle of carnival games, Dream stops. 

“George, look!”

“What?”

“It’s a mirror maze.”

George’s eyes widen watching Dream step towards the entrance. “Do you want to do it?”

“Of course! Do you?”

“Seems a little… claustrophobic, don’t you think?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. C’mon, please, Gogy?”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it (in fact, he wants to go more than anything else right now), but George knows the close proximity they’ll have to be in, remembers how he felt when Dream touched his back. He doesn’t know why he reacted to a simple touch that way, but nonetheless it was _strange_. But, of course, he gives in. “Fine, fine. Don’t call me that, either.”

“Gogy. Gogmeister. Georgy.”

“No, that’s-” George starts, but his words get caught in his throat when Dream grabs his wrist. 

George feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust while Dream leads him towards the maze. The fingers wrapped around his wrist are gentle, carefully pulling him along. This is stupid, he thinks; caring so much about Dream’s hands. George cringes at himself and tries to think about everything but this moment. (It doesn’t work).

They walk in the maze (Dream still holding his wrist) and it’s terrifying, to say the least. George whips his head around, overwhelmed by the tens of hundreds of mirror-Georges and mirror-Dreams surrounding them. 

“Wait, where do we _go_?” he says, laughing. It’s now that Dream lets him go, too focused on figuring out the path. Blue fluorescent lights glow from above, casting a neon tint over the illuminated carpet. 

“Look.” Dream points to one of the mirrors. “Just look for, like, fingerprints and stuff. You can see where people walked right into the wall.”

“Oh, you’re right,” George says, laughing. He walks, holding his hands out in front of him, careful to stay at least a meter away from Dream. He turns for a second, seeing a bright blue sign reading _exit_ just a little ways ahead of him. “Wait, Dream, I think it’s—“

Dream turns to him, but George underestimated just how close they were standing. As he turns, their chests bump, the sides of George’s face suddenly pressing against Dreams shoulder. 

“Oh, oops,” he says, laughing.

George _immediately_ steps away, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t- I didn’t see you there. Sorry.”

Dream shakes his head. “George, if you wanted to hug me, you coulda just said that.”

“I wasn’t…” George trails. His face is hot, burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t know you were _right behind_ me.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say,” Dream rolls his eyes. The air is suddenly warm, and George wonders why he agreed to walk into the maze in the first place. 

They finish the maze, George silent the rest of the way through, and Dream still teasing him about what happened. “ _Goodness,_ George, couldn’t you have waited ‘til we got back to my place?”

“I hate you,” George laughs. His face is _definitely_ red.

“Anyway,” Dream starts. “What about that Ferris wheel?”

“I’m up for it if you are.”

Dream squints his eyes, thinking. He’s rocking back and forth, subtly, making George smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

  
  


They’re reaching the top of the wheel when Dream looks at him. He’s got this look in his eyes, some emotion George can’t place. He feels the stupid blush creep on his cheeks and he has to look down, has to at least _try_ and hide the fact Dream can fluster him with just a look.

“George.”

George’s stomach jumps. “Yeah?”

Dream pauses, like he’s contemplating something. He opens his mouth to speak but stops and laughs quietly instead, covering his eyes with his hand. “That’s priceless.”

“What is?”

“That!” he gestures vaguely towards George. “Everything about that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You, like, looked at me. And your eyes were so _wide_ , like a deer in headlights or something. Are you okay?” He giggles again.

“I’m fine, you just,” George hesitates. “You startled me.”

“I can tell.”

“Whatever.” George can feel something building between them. Something tense, unknown.

“You’re blushing. Are you always this red?”

“It’s just the lights from the ride. I’m not blushing.” 

Dream shifts in the seat. Did he… scoot closer? “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will, actually.”

Dream shakes his head softly. He slides an arm behind the seat, resting it directly behind George’s neck. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, by the way.”

George tenses. Blue and yellow lights flash around him. “What is it?”

Dream looks at him again, directly in the eyes this time, mouth ever so slightly agape. He raises his eyebrows the way he does when he’s about to start a sentence, but instead of words, there’s silence. George feels beads of sweat pooling around the top of his forehead. It’s humid - or that’s his excuse, anyway.

“Well?”

Dream presses his lips into a straight line and narrows his eyes, turning his head away. “Never mind, actually.”

“What?” George interjects immediately. “No. You can’t _do that_ , Dream.”

“Do what?” He grins. 

“You can’t just look at me all serious and, like, build up this intense question. Just to say ‘never mind’!”

“Yes I can.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Dream looks over again. His green eyes are illuminated by the wheel’s yellow lights. “Just… be honest with me, alright.”

Shit, what is he going to ask? George has never been good in serious situations, _especially_ when they involve Dream, but this time seems different. He wipes his forehead. “I’m always honest.”

“That is a lie and you know it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Ask now, Dream.”

“Okay.” Dream looks off the edge of the seat, his light hair fluffy from the gusty air. George can’t help but realise he looks _good_ right now. _So_ good. He finds himself shifting between Dream’s eyes and mouth, like he’s _expecting_ something. Of course, he knows what he wants - it’s burning in the back of his mind like a searing-hot coal. “George.” Dream lets out a small giggle.

“Yeah?”

They’re now at the very top of the wheel, overlooking the kaleidoscope of lights spread across the fair. Suddenly, the humidity of the night is gone, _everything_ is gone. George feels as if he’s in a bubble with Dream, everything and everyone irrelevant floating in the background. Dream carefully leans in, a movement so slight George wonders if he imagined it. George can feel the heat emitting from his face and he wonders if Dream can feel it too. They’re close, _so_ close, and it’s now that George accepts what his mind wants, what _he_ wants. 

He’s about to move in when Dream speaks. 

“George,” he says, staring at George’s mouth. “Do you think my hair is brown or blonde?”

It’s like the bubble he imagined beforehand suddenly popped. “What?” George huffs loudly. “ _What?”_

Dream laughs, cackles, almost, loud and from his chest. He wipes his eye, scooting to the side of the seat. “Oh my God!”

If George wasn’t blushing then, he _definitely_ is now. He feels embarrassment radiating from his cheeks, hot and uncomfortable. “I hate you, Dream. _So much_.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s still giggling. “I mean, what did you think was going to happen?”

George looks away, his hands suddenly cold. “I don’t know.” Except, of _course_ he does. 

“Your eyes did that thing again, where they get all big and funny-looking!” Dream laughs some more. “No, but actually. What color is my hair?”

George contemplates for a moment, the clouds in his head still preventing him from looking directly at Dream. The annoying carnival music is suddenly within consciousness again, piercing his ears. “Dirty blond.”

“See! Everyone thinks I’m wrong. But I’m _not_!”

“Whatever,” George sighs. Why did he think Dream was going to…

He can’t even say it. Those words don’t fit together in a sentence, George thinks, a sudden disgust eating away at his thoughts. They’re just _friends_ — just because they’ve met in real life now doesn’t mean anything has changed. It’s stupid. George shakes his head in disapproval, leaning his head on his hand. He sighs. “Hey, Dream, when are we-”

Dream turns to him and places a hand on his cheek. Before George can react, he presses their lips together, gentle and quick. 

Chills tingle his spine as Dream smooths his hand against his face. Their noses bump ever-so-slightly, George shifting himself closer to Dream, placing his hand on Dream’s arm. They stay like that for a moment before Dream pulls away.

“Sorry…” Dream whispers under his breath. “I couldn’t help myself.” George’s vision is blurry, his eyes half closed.

“You…” George starts, but his words get caught in his grin. He giggles. “You smell like Axe.”

“What?” Dream laughs, but George puts an end to that immediately, once again pulling himself closer and pressing his lips onto Dream’s. The Ferris wheel is approaching its end, almost to the ground, but he doesn’t care — all that matters right now is the warmth of Dream’s hands on his face, the slow movements of his lips against George’s, and the softness of his closed eyes. 

“I thought you were gonna leave me hanging,” George says against Dream’s lips.

“Oh, come on. I’m not that cruel.” Dream grins. “You probably are, though. I bet you recorded the whole thing.”

“I’m gonna post it on Twitter while you’re sleeping.”

“Heh,” Dream laughs. “Weird face reveal.” He pauses. “You didn’t actually record it though, right?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Okay, okay. Just making sure.”

“Twitter would probably explode, though. The entire thing would, like, go up in flames or something.”

Dream giggles. Their carriage is at the bottom now, stopped so they can walk off. George doesn’t want to leave, though, because that means he’ll have to face what he just did…

It all hits him at once. He _kissed_ Dream. A thousand questions swirl through his mind as he walks back to the car: Why did they kiss? Did it actually… mean something? George knows Dream — he’s unpredictable, unreadable, but everything he does is _methodical_. There’s a reason for it all, and George wonders what’s gonna happen when they’re alone in the car. 

His heart pounds as he opens the passenger side door, Dream’s keys jingling. 

Dream is smiling. “So.”

“So.” George sits, his hands suddenly cold, shaky. “Are we going to your house now?” 

“I mean, I don’t have any other plans.” He is grinning, George notices. “Do you?”

“No. I’m visiting _you_.”

“Right.”

They sit in silence for a second. George mindlessly scrolls through Twitter, not reading any of the tweets and just _looking_ busy. He grins, imagines the reactions he would get if he randomly tweeted _Dream kissed me today._ It would be chaos, definitely, but the idea intrigues him more than it should. 

“Hey, Dream, what if I—“

Dream turns and kisses him again. George isn’t surprised this time and, as if they’ve done this hundreds of times before, leans into the gesture. It feels so _normal_ that George wonders how he spent 24 years of his life without it. 

“What were you saying?” Dream murmurs into the space between George’s cheek and the corner of his lips. “I got distracted.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

Dream sighs, pulling away slightly. He looks directly into George’s eyes for a split second, but it’s enough to fluster him nevertheless. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“How long?” George whispers.

“Heh,” Dream giggles. “It was a rhetorical question but… a long time. _Long,_ long time.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all you have to say? _Okay?”_

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know!” George laughs, and it’s like the rest of the world is gone, hidden away behind the car windows. He leans back into the passenger seat. “Let’s go now, I’m hungry.”

“You couldn’t have said that while we were _in the fairgrounds?”_

“No,” George says as he pulls out his phone. Opening Twitter, he hits the _New Tweet_ button. 

_Dreamnotfound confirmed?_ he types. Dream’s phone buzzes.

“Wait— _George!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) Please comment if you enjoyed (or if you didn’t enjoy! I also appreciate criticisms). 
> 
> I do requests, so if you like my writing and want a specific plot/trope/whatever written, just let me know! If enough people ask I’ll give out my social media and you can tell me there :)


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